From Green to Cinders
by Just A Simple Lampshade
Summary: The story runs just as it should; Cinderella will go to the ball. The Prince will find his true love. Everyone will live Happily Ever After. But things just don't seem...right. Will the characters of this Pantomime realise what's wrong with their world? Or will everything end at Midnight? (Wicked Pantomime AU. Multichapter. Gelphie and some mild Giyero)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello all! Gosh, it's been a while since I ventured onto ! Nice t'meetcha! In lieu of the Holiday season (No. shush. It's **_**not **_**Boxing Day. What are you talking about?) Have a strange AU fic that's been floating about my head for the past…a long time. **

**Feedback and crit is always welcome and highly encouraged! Be as critical as you like, I don't mind at all! I'm always looking to improve. However, please take note that a few of the ships in the coming chapters are not ships that I ship. They simply fit well into where the plot was headed. So if you have a problem with a ship, please…don't…blame me? **

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><p><em>She was dancing. Every night she danced. Dancing in an endless waltz of extravagance and glittering lights. Very often she would forget the Prince's face in the morning. If, indeed, he even had a face to begin with. She would remember only that he was handsome, and delightfully charming. She would forget how exactly the ballroom had appeared. Only that it was grand. The tiny little details of dress (pretty) and location and populace (adoring) seemed unimportant to her. Every dream was a whirl of glitter and excitement, and she clung to it eagerly. <em>

_It was magical. And most of all, it was _her_ magic. Hers alone. And she was sure of that most of all. _

Cinderella rose at dawn. She always had, for as long as she could remember. The chirping of sweet little birds at her window was, she thought, the _perfect _way to rouse herself. It reminded her of all the cheeriness in the world; the simple sweet joys waiting just outside the confines of her tower bedroom. The unkind could call Cinderella simple. But she _liked _that. Happiness was simple, so why shouldn't she be, too?

She kicked away the blankets, pulled back the shutters, and greeting the morning outside with a wide smile. Then she made her bed.

As a rule, her Stepsisters never rose before 10, and Cinderella's Stepmother rarely showed her face past her bedroom door. And so for a good few hours after dawn, Cinderella was free to do as she pleased. She had her chores, and she had their dreadfully awful manner to contend with later. But the Kitchen was her place. It was a little corner of peace against her Stepfamilies' Wickedness. Cinderella had taught herself to say hello each new day with every inch of positive cheerfulness. She knew, she just _knew, _that with enough kindness and hard work, she would find happiness.

…She wasn't sure entirely _where_ she had learnt that, or exactly where she would find it. But she _knew _i_t. _She knew it as well as she knew that her hair was blond, and that the sky was blue, and that there would always be pretty little birds singing at her window. _That _was proven fact!

Cinderella washed her face in the water pump at the back of the house, tied a fresh pinny about her waist, and got to work busily with a dustpan and broom. The courtyard needed sweeping, the fireplace had to be lit, the cutlery polished, the ovens cleaned. And there was kindling to gather from the woods before dark. Never did Cinderella's morning routine differ from one day to the next. She sang as she worked, she sang as he brought water from the well, and she sang as he swept.

At precisely 9:00 Cinderella turned and, on cue, smiled brightly at the kitchen door. It remained closed, and for a good 30 seconds, nothing happened. Even the clock's tick seemed to stop. Slowly, Cinderella's smile began to fade. For the first time all morning, she frowned. Carefully she set down the broom, marched up to the door, and, with exaggerated care, beamed at it again. Nothing happened. Cinderella glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.

It was three past nine! Where _was _he?

He was_ supposed_ to be here. He was here, on time, on the dot, _every day. _Although it was a trivial thing, and Cinderella told herself—with her usual brightness—that really, she had no reason to be cross at him. Really, she should be worried. Still she was. It just felt…all wrong. Like that nasty feeling she awoke with after a nightmare. It was how things worked! This really wasn't like him _at all!_

At ten past nine the door swung open, and a young man staggered in. He was dressed, as all the house's servants were, in the red and yellow livery of the Hardup family. The strap of a garish pillbox hat pressed tightly against his chin. The chevrons on his shoulders shone in the morning sunlight.

"Oh, Buttons!" said Cinderella primly, bending down to retrieve her broom. "There you are!" She did not sound pleased. She didn't _feel _pleased.

Buttons looked every bit as guilty as Cinderella did annoyed. One might have thought he had accidentally kicked one of the chickens on his way in, rather than arrived a few minutes late. And just like her, his fear seemed tinged with an odd confusion. He hastily straightened his hat, flattening the little flick of fringe poking out at the front.

"Hello Cinders!" he replied, as brightly as he could.

Cinderella swept the broom across the hearth, moving the dust from place to place. This was how she always cleaned, and wouldn't see it done in any other way. "You're late." she said disapprovingly. Buttons nodded, the tips of his ears reddening. He was never usually so nervous; Cinderella thought him the most cheerful and unabashed of all her dearest friends. But she still found herself annoyed, and so only watched as he sunk down at the table.

Buttons yawned. Cinderella saw that one of his cuffs was unrolled. Buttons seemed to have missed a button hole as he dressed this morning, and his hat was still sitting askew. Feeling a small surge of sisterly affection, Cinderella abandoned her annoyance and crossed the kitchen to set about tidying him up. Her help always seemed to cheer Buttons immensely. It was another one of those facts Cinderella simply _knew._

"And you do look _very _tired." She added, as she carefully rebuttoned his coat. Buttons winced, but nodded all the same. He rubbed at his forehead.

"I had...a really odd dream!" he said, in the manner of one imparting a terrible secret. This wasn't what they _usually _spoke about every morning.

"Oh!" Cinderella gasped suddenly, clapping her hands against her mouth before Buttons could continue. She spun gracefully on her heel, eyes wide. "You as well, Buttons? Because I've been having the _strangest _dreams too!"

Buttons' eyes widened hopefully. "You have?" he said.

"Oh yes!" Cinderella swept towards him. The broom in her hand trailed out ahead like a willowy dance partner. "About a Prince, and…and a ball! And it's so _beautiful._ And we dance all night!" She paused, feeling a sudden jab of crossness. "_You _haven't been having the same dream, have you Buttons? Because that would be awfully funny!"

"N-no! I mean- " Buttons cast a surreptitious glance about the kitchen before slipping from his stool and sidling up to her. "Do you ever get the feeling you're…uh…well..._being watched_?" He whispered. Cinderella stared at him.

"Oh Buttons!" she giggled, and patted his shoulder, "You are _silly!"_

Just as she couldn't recall him ever being nervous, Cinderella couldn't remember Buttons ever being this serious before. She thought his face looked every bit as funny as the thought of him dancing at a ball. She frowned prettily, and wondered if she should tell him.

"Well!" Buttons grinned brightly all of a sudden. That made Cinderella feel very much better indeed; this was how things were _supposed _to be. She liked to see him cheerful! "I think I can help you with your dream, Cinders!"

Reaching inside his coat, Buttons pulled out a bundle of envelopes. There were four in total, each one embossed with thick golden lettering and coloured a rich royal purple. He held them out to her, his look of sleep-deprived worry transformed into a wide grin. "Look at these!"

Cinderella looked at them. They looked, she thought, awfully official.

"They're from the Palace!" Buttons whispered. His eyes shone excitedly. "Invitations to the Prince's Birthday Ball!"

"Oh!" Cinderella reached out to touch the envelopes. She sighed. "A ball!"

"And you'll be the Belle of it, Cinderella!" Buttons declared. He seemed to have entirely forgotten the upset of earlier, and jumped up eagerly.

"But…the Prince is a Prince!" Cinderella's teeth bit down daintily against her fist. "And I'm just a lowly kitchen maid! And, oh Buttons, how will my Wicked Stepfamily ever let me go?"

Button's face fell, just a little. But Cinderella barely noticed. "I would go wi-" he began, but drew himself up quickly "I mean! You shouldn't listen to them! They're nasty old hags! And you…well, you have an invitation!"

He held up one of the envelopes victoriously.

"Can you imagine it, Miss Galinda? To dance at the ba-"

Buttons stopped. He blinked. For a moment he looked confused. No that…that wasn't right. Was it? He glanced at Cinderella for help. She stared back at him blankly.

"Oh, silly Buttons!" she said at last. But she sounded slow, uncertain. "Is that another friend of yours?

"I…I'm not sure…" Buttons replied, just as confused. He brightened suddenly. "Is it your second name?"

"I…don't _think _so…"

"…oh."

There was another pause. Buttons coughed awkwardly. Suddenly he looked all _wrong. _Just as he had when he spoke about his dreams this morning. His arms prickled with Goosebumps. He looked as surprised as she did.

"Well…I…uh…I'll just leave these here then!" he threw the envelopes down on the kitchen table, almost upsetting the milk jug. With a clumsy bow and a flutter of coat tails, Buttons bounded out the door and into the yard.

Cinderella watched him go. She giggled quietly to herself.

Oh, how _silly _he was!


	2. Chapter 2

Around the back of the house, beside the stables and a short way out of the wind, sat a pretty little walled garden. Cinderella's Mother had cared for it, back before Buttons' employment by the Baron. But it had long since fallen into disrepair. Wild roses entwined around the rusting gateposts, greenfly had eaten most of the daffodils, and the pathways were choked with weeds. The Baroness, they said, didn't care for anything beautiful.

Buttons edged his way carefully past the thorned creepers, down the path, and say himself on a little stone bench near the middle of the garden. He needed, he thought, someplace quiet to think. And thinking had never really been one of Buttons' finer skills. The incident in the kitchen had startled him.

Over the past few weeks, Buttons had begun to feel…something he had never felt before. The world, his _home _felt…different. Buttons wasn't used to things being different. He liked his routine; _everyone _liked their routine. These were not things one willingly broke. But everything seemed too bright, too happy. It was like sitting inside a child's painting. And to his growing alarm, Buttons was beginning to realise that he…didn't actually like it. Presented with this concept a few weeks ago, Buttons would have nodded cheerfully and said that of _course _the world was like that! Of course it was! How else could it be?

But now? Now he simply couldn't.

It made him uncomfortable. And that in itself made him even more uncomfortable. Buttons, as far as he was aware, had never _not liked _something a single day in his life. He was a man of simplistic emotions, and simplistic desires.

He lived to be cheerful. He had always felt, in some small way, that it was his _job_ to be cheerful. So...why was he suddenly not?

And his _dreams. _

His dreams were…_green._

Buttons remembered the green. And he remembered flashes of…had it been writing? The sound of fluttering wings. Or had it been pages? He cupped his head in his hands. It had all felt so clear this morning. But remembering the dream was like struggling to hold grain in his fingers. It ran away from him before he could focus.

And…and Cinderella had been there, Buttons was quite sure of it. But these had been nothing like the dreams he _usually _had of her. All his life, ever since they were children, Buttons had harboured the quietest of crushes on Cinderella. One day, he just _knew, _he would tell her. As they grew older it had only grown stronger. And now…

Well…it was strange. But suddenly Buttons felt as if the only _real _thing in his life was Cinderella. Button's world had always revolved around her. But now even more so. Maybe he was coming down with a fever? And so close to the ball. He was sure it didn't-

A movement at one of the windows caught Buttons' attention. One of the great velvet curtains on the upper floor had twitched. Buttons could see nothing but the brief flutter of long gloved fingers, but even so he shivered. Cinderella's Stepmother—Baroness Hardup- was technically his Mistress, but she _scared _him. She was a frightful old hag, he had always thought. Especially compared to the wonderful Cinders.

Buttons glanced away quickly, trying to look as if he hadn't noticed. Maybe she would go away if he hadn't noticed.

The rose bushes rustled in the breeze. One of the iron gates squeaked. And suddenly, silently, Buttons realised he wasn't alone in the garden after all. He was being watched. Two women stood, one by the wall, and the other from the shadows of the gate. They didn't move. They didn't blink. They stared at him. Buttons sat up straighter.

If the Baroness was terrifying, then her two daughters were downright creepy. They were twins, identical. Buttons had never been able to tell one apart from the other. But then, he had never really been close enough to try. They were strange, oddly proportioned creatures. Although their faces were delicate and extravagantly made up, their hair piled atop their heads like silken beehives, they stood at perhaps twice the height of Buttons. Their shoulders were broad and mannish, their girth and wrists thick and muscular under dainty silk sleeves. Their legs were lean and fit, made more for running and (Buttons thought) kicking than the usual pursuits of high class womanhood. Their expressions were blank and cold and calculating.

They looked as if they could quite easily rip him in half.

Buttons shivered. He didn't think he had ever seen them in the walled garden before. Usually they watched over Cinderella. In fact, he didn't think he'd found himself this close to them _at all._ Suddenly Buttons decided that perhaps this was not a problem he should concern himself with. At least, not in the garden. And not now.

He stood, adjusted his hat, straightened his uniform, gave the sisters a friendly little nod, and then hurried away down the path as fast as he could.

In the distance, he was sure he could hear the faint, far off sounds of laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

"I had the dream again, Dandini!"

"The dream again, Sire?"

"Yes, Dandini, the dream!"

The Prince's sword flashed and shone idly in the morning sunlight as he cut his way through the woods. He swung in every direction, hardly caring to see what he might have hit. His footman was careful to stand behind him.

"The _Wonderful _dream!"

"Which…wonderful dream…Sire?"

"The wonderful dream! You know! The one with dancing, and the ball! And the beautiful girl…" The Prince turned, his face flushed with wonder. "Do you ever have such wonderful dreams, Dandini?" he asked.

"I don't, Sire."

Dandini's face was careful and sincere. He was, the Prince sometimes thought, entirely too serious for his own good. Dandini agreed with _everything. _But rarely did the prince think about it for too long. Thinking, he had always thought, was far too taxing a business. And besides; who _wouldn't _agree with him? He was, after all, The Prince!

"It was _Wonderful."_

"I'm sure it was, Sire."

The Prince resumed his cheerful hacking of the surrounding wildlife. Their daily walks often went something like this. Either the subject of talk was hunting, or girls. Sometimes it was girls _and _hunting. But the girl, the girl in his dream. She had been…_perfect. _She had been more perfect than even the most thrilling of hunts!The Prince rarely spoke to girls, not properly. He was a Prince after all, and the Kingdom was, unfortunately, populated with peasants. It was such a shame really-

"Maybe you will meet such a girl at the ball tonight, Sire."

The Prince froze. He blinked. It took a certain amount of time for an idea to strike him. But when it did, he beamed. _Of course!_

Oh, Dandini, he always knew_ exactly_ what to say! The Prince had always found him a great help when it came to the tricky subject of thinking. For a peasant.

"You're _right, _Dandini! Maybe it's a sign!"

The Prince had long since lost track of the dances he attended. His Father seemed intent on never allowing the ballroom to empty. They had become, to The Prince, an endless whirl of boring glamour. Boring girls, boring dresses and boring food. But the girl in his dream. Oh! To meet her at tonight's ball! Why, The Prince told himself firmly that he would marry her right there and then! It was the only logical next step.

A crunch made them both turn.

If anyone had asked the Prince to explain what happened next, he would have described a flash of shimmering sunlight, the bright wash of a ruby dusk as it picked out the lone, beautiful figure. He would have spoken of the soft forest sounds, and how they hushed as _she _appeared. He might have noted how the ground seemed undisturbed by each gentle footfall, or how her hair shone like burnished gold.

Dandini didn't move. He remained in place as Cinderella and the Prince noticed one another for the first time. He simply…faded into the background. The Prince didn't notice. It was doubtful he ever would.

Cinderella stared. The Prince stared. She was…_beautiful! _The soft curl of her hair, the gentle snub of nose, the exquisite blue of her eyes. Somehow she had even managed, the Prince thought dreamily, to make her ratty peasant clothes look appealing. He felt, truly, as if his entire life had lead up to this moment.

"…hello." He said.

"…hello." She said.

They gazed at one another. It felt as if the world had paused to wait for them.

Finally he asked, "Who…are you?"

"Cinderella…" she replied softly, "Who are you?"

And_ that _required a moment of thought.

"Why, I'm the Pri-" The Prince paused. _No!_ He thought. She was a peasant, after all! She might run away if she knew who he was! And he didn't know what he might do if such a thing happened! _"A Simple Peasant Woodcutter!"_

"Oh!" Cinderella gasped. "How interesting! I've never _met _a Woodcutter before!"

Neither had The Prince. It was a struggle to contain his excitement. _Oh!_ He thought, _they had so much in common! _He strode forward, careful to let the light fall upon his rich red coat and tight beige leggings.

"And what might you be doing out here, all alone?" he asked.

"I've been collecting kindling for my Cruel and Wicked Stepsisters!" Cinderella replied. She held out her basket. The Prince peered inside. A small scattering of twigs lined the bottom. He beamed

"How delightful!" he said.

"And just what are _you _doing?" she asked.

"Oh!" The Prince cast a glance back at Dandini and waved a hand imperiously. "You know! Our… Woodsman…duties! Chopping away at trees! All day!" He liked this idea a lot. He made a very convincing peasant, the Prince thought.

The more they spoke, the more convinced the Prince became. He…he had seen her somewhere before. This captivating woodland beauty. He was certain of it. Such complex ideas could be hard for him to process, but still he tried. It was worth it for such marvelousness. The Prince had seen many, many beautiful girls in his time. Princesses, Queens, Duchesses….but none of them quite matched up to _this _beauty. This beauty felt like…his...

"You know." He said softly. "Suddenly I feel as if we've met before somewhere. Don't you?"

Cinderella's eyes shone. She grabbed his hand, drawing it to her chest. "Yes! Yes!" she breathed. "I was thinking _just _a thing! In a dream we've both shared! A perfect, lovely-!"

There was a pause. Such a leap of logic required careful processing.

"No." he replied thoughtfully. "No, that's definitely not it."

Cinderella blinked.

There was a cough. Dandini had stepped forward.

"I believe we should be getting back…" he said, sounding on the cusp of adding a courteous _Sire. _The Prince was hardly any judge, but for a moment he was sure Dandini looked annoyed. He would have to reprimand his manservant about that later.

"Ah! Yes!" he replied. "Wouldn't want to miss our…uh…" he glanced lovingly back at Cinderella. "Woodsman…evening….duties!" _Cinderella. _He thought. Ah, _Cinderella!_ There was no doubt he would remember_ that_ name!

But even so. The thought still irked him; where _had _he seen her before? The Prince would quite happily have agreed with the beautiful girl; happily agreed that they had indeed met in that wonderful dream. But some unwanted, underused part of the Prince's brain was starting to nag at him. Actual _thought. _It was like a fly buzzing about his head. The Prince did not like it.

As he watched Cinderella disappear back into the brush, the Prince sighed. Did it matter, really? Did it matter at all?

Oh, she was…_beautiful._

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><p><strong>AN: well, hello again! I'd just like to say an awed little thank you for the kind reviews this thing has gotten so far! I hope you all like where I plan to go with this, thank you so much for the encouragement!**

**This chapter was, unfortunately, my least favourite of them all to write. Or, should I say the trickiest? There's no prizes for guessing who our handsome Prince is. But I desperately wanted Dandini to be Musical!Avaric. Unfortunately, as you'll see in coming chapters, that just wasn't possible. (even though I somehow wrote half the scene with that in mind?) **

**I also promise the strange dialogue and word choices will make sense in due course! **


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